


Collision of Two Worlds

by JensenAckles13



Category: Frostiron - Fandom, Sherlock Holmes (Downey films), Tony/Loki - Fandom
Genre: Bad Ideas, Loki is a prince, Loosely Sherlock Holmes, M/M, Odin's A+ Parenting
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-04-28
Updated: 2014-06-09
Packaged: 2018-01-21 04:53:21
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 8
Words: 11,983
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1538318
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JensenAckles13/pseuds/JensenAckles13
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Anthony Stark, also known as the town drunk, feels the eyes of a stranger on him one day in the fighting rink. One glance told him all he needed to know; royalty, rebellious, kind of heart, mischievous....all the qualities of a good man. It's an emotional rollercoaster from start to finish, and neither of them know what happened to start this all off. Will one man's love become another man's reason to live? Depressed, alone, alcoholic....Tony isn't sure if he even deserves the prince that happened to walk into the bar that day.<br/>He's forced to choose; be with the man he loves, effectively stopping his chance at becoming King, or let him and everything they've shared go.<br/>He's never been faced with such a difficult decision.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is based off of these videos:  
> Part 1:  
> http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=fmgxLumer4I  
> Part 2:  
> http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=KT1G0nlM0uM  
> Not my videos but they were wonderful anyways! Thanks for reading!

Tony passed a hand over his brow, his eyes falling shut. He needed the money; everyone knew he did. He was poor, and lived in a ridiculously small flat. He just wasn’t sure if this was worth it. He knew what the man was going to do; he always did. It was easy, once you figured out ones mannerisms, to predict what they were going to do.  
He took another harsh hit to the gut, which was quickly followed by one to the jaw that sent him reeling, crashing into one of the wooden gate walls. He painstakingly pulled himself up- and that was when he saw him. Standing towards the back, smiling as he no doubt thought he would win. From his clean, silken tunic to his locks of chocolate curls and the sword at his hip; he screamed royalty. It took a mere five seconds to determine he was the prince. What he was doing in this god-awful fight club? Now that was a question. Entertainment? Or perhaps rebellion…

“Get up!” the hulking and very drunk man behind him shouted. He stood slowly, not bothering to brush away the sand that stuck to his sweat-soaked body. He locked eyes with the stranger, letting a ghost of a smile grace his features. The stranger- prince- raised a brow, tilting his head to the side.

“That’s it, big man. You’ve won.” It was said over his back. He needn’t face him for that. But he’d like to picture how it would work anyway.

“Oi! We ain’t done yet!”  
  
He let his shoulders relax, picturing in the minds-eye exactly what the man behind him would do, and the perfect counter attack.  
 _First, distract the target. The handkerchief would have to do. Then block his blind jab, counter with cross to left cheek. Discombobulate. Dazed, will attempt wild haymaker. Employ elbow block and body shot. Block feral left, weaken right jaw, now fracture. Break cracked ribs, traumatize solar plexus, dislocate jaw entirely. Heel kick to diaphragm_ …When he came back to himself, it was to the feeling of someone spitting on the back of his head.  
Tony kept his eyes on the stranger, who seemed to chuckle at Tony’s naivety, for another moment before taking up the handkerchief that was over the railing of their little rink. He wiped at the back of his head, turning to face McMurdo, who hunkered down into his fighting stance. Tony didn’t follow suit. No, he threw the handkerchief into the face of his opponent. He blocked the blind punch that was thrown his way, throwing a left cross and then clapping his hands over both the man’s ears. He blocked the next punch with his elbow, and sent a punch into the man’s jaw, weakening it. Another cross and Tony fractured the man’s jaw. He broke the cracked ribs he’d earlier given him, slammed the heel of his hand into the man’s solar plexus, and then dislocated the man’s jaw with a punch. He reared back, slamming his heel into the man’s diaphragm, sending him crashing through the wooden gate.  
This had taken a total of six seconds.  
 _In summary: ears ringing, jaw fractured, three ribs cracked, four broken, diaphragm hemorrhaging. Physical recovery: six weeks. Psychological recovery: six months. Capacity to spit at back of head: neutralized._  
Silence fell.  
Tony picked up his winnings, and made his way to the bar, where the handsome stranger was leaning, looking at him with shocked eyes.  
Tony grabbed a bottle of liquor from the bar and pulled the cork out with his teeth. He gazed at the man for a moment.

“Hope you didn’t lose too much,” he said quietly, throwing in a wink before taking a long drink of the liquor, relishing the burn as it slid smoothly down his throat. A moment later he heard the shuffle of footsteps he was expecting.

“How was it you accomplished _that?_ ” a soft, English accented voice asked behind him. He didn’t turn, but answered anyway.

“I knew what he was going to do,” he said simply. He heard a scoff, and the curly haired man came to stand beside him.

“No you couldn’t. There has to be a more logical reason,” the man replied, watching him with sharp green eyes. Tony raised a brow.

“Oh, couldn’t you?” he challenged. Those eyes narrowed.

“Okay. You could somehow see what he was planning on doing. That still doesn’t tell me how you-”

“Oh, but it does.”

“You didn’t know what I was going-”

“I did. It did tell you how I was going to beat him. You only have to be listening.” He let a small, barely there smile pass his features as the man tilted his head to the side, watching him closely, as if he were a lab specimen.

“That’s impossible.” He finally seemed to come to a conclusion. Tony shrugged.

“When you’ve eliminated the impossible, whatever remains, however improbable, shall be the truth.” The man blinked a few times, seeming to ponder this for a moment, before nodding, as if he accepted the answer.

“May I ask where you learned to fight like that?”

“Like every good man,” he said, his smile growing a bit. “I taught myself.”

“Oh, are you saying you’re better than I?” the man asked. Tony smirked.

“Perhaps,” he replied slyly, turning his head to look at the man. “But now it is my turn for questions. What is royalty doing here? It’s not exactly the…cultural hub of the century.” He gestured round at the lowly lit street lamps and the people, whose clothes resembled nothing more than dirty rags.

“Oh, entertainment, really,” the man said, smiling. “And you knew I was royalty, how….?”

“You stick out here like a sore thumb, sire,” Tony deadpanned. The stranger narrowed his eyes a bit.

“You mustn’t call me ‘sire’ when I am not at home. I am no sire here.”

“Ah, so it is in rebellion of your father?” Tony asked. The stranger tilted his head to the side.

“Yes, I suppose so.”

“Well, I could think of multiple ways to do _that_. Come back, have a drink with me.” He smiled a real, genuine smile. The stranger was just about to answer, but a sleek black coach pulled up, with a  rather angry looking driver with a handlebar mustache.

“Pardon me, but I must go. Oh, and I am Prince Odinson.” The stranger rushed his words and began hurrying into the coach.

“Do you have a first name?” Tony called after him, watching him.

“Oh, my apologies. Loki. My name is Loki.” He closed the door, but then stuck his head out the window. “What do I call you?”

“Anthony,” he said, smiling a bit. “Or Tony. Whichever you prefer.”

“Anthony….do you have a last name?”

“I do. It is Stark.” He stepped back as the horses whinnied impatiently, huffing and stamping their hooves.

“Anthony Stark.” Loki was quiet for a moment before asking. “Where do I find you?”  
Tony smiled; he’d been getting worried that he’d miscalculated and Loki wasn’t actually going to ask. He’d been so sure too.  
Tony took the folded slip of paper from his pocket, taking Loki’s hand and pushing the slip into his palm, closing both the prince’s hands around it.

“If I’m not there, I’ll likely be back quite soon. You can wait inside, if you please.” He stepped back once more.

“And, pray tell, how must you know I will be coming?” Loki settled back in the coach, but his eyes were still on Tony.

“I thought we had this discussion earlier? Mannerisms, my darling. And perhaps a bit of educated guessing.” He stepped back, watching as the driver brought his riding crop down on the horses rears’. They startled into a gallop, whinnying.

“Until next time, Anthony Stark!” Loki called, his hair wild with wind as he stuck his head out the window. Tony raised a hand in response, watching as the coach rounded a corner, taking Loki out of sight.

“Until next time indeed,” he murmured. Whistling some old Beethoven tune, he made his way back to his flat, immediately setting to work on finding out all he could about one Prince Loki Odinson.

  
  



	2. We Meet Again

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here's the next installment! I hope you like, and thanks for reading! Oh, and comments fuel me to write faster ;)

The Prince showed up the next day, without his lovely coach driver, and knocked a bit impatiently on the door. Tony was going on his fifteenth night without sleep, and was half out of his mind, but really couldn’t bring himself to care when he opened the door to find Loki, in all his glory, standing in a simple green tunic and leather pants. Leather pants that, might he add, fit quite well in the back.

“I hadn’t expected you so soon,” Tony said by way of greeting.

“There’s something about you, Anthony, that renders one incapable of staying away for too long,” Loki replied, making his way into the flat once Tony had opened the door a bit wider.  

“My apologies for the mess, m’lord. I hadn’t expected company, but I suppose if I had, I still wouldn’t have bothered.” Tony looked around at the mess of his flat, closing the door behind the prince.  Loki chuckled, looking around.

“I really don’t mind. Next to the over-cleanliness of my home, it is welcome.” Loki let those poison green eyes trail around, catching every detail of the messy, but not dirty, room. His eyes latched onto the large smiley face that Tony had shot into the wall with an 1886 revolver, and he raised a brow.   
“This doesn’t quite seem like the proper way to take out one’s anger,” the prince observed.

“Believe me, m’lord; it was sheer boredom that drove me to do that,” Tony replied, smiling a bit.

“Didn’t we have this conversation yesterday? It is just ‘Loki’ to you, Anthony,” Loki said, a warm smile gracing his handsome features.

“Of course,” he said, bowing his head in acknowledgement. “Would you like a drink?” He made his way over to the bar, pouring two glasses of aged bourbon, and handing one to Loki.

“Thank you.” Loki brought the glass to his lips. Tony nodded.

“Do you have plans for the day? You’re a prince; you must have plans,” Tony asked after a moment of comfortable silence.

“Usually I would, but I freed my schedule today. I suppose you can guess why?” Loki tilted his head to the side, a smile beginning to form.

“I believe I can. I am in the mood to go to the rings, however. Would you like to join me, your highness?” He finished his drink in one go, turning to face the prince. Loki smiled.

“Of course.”

*

That was how they ended up down at the bar the pair had been at the night before. They were simply watching; or rather, Tony was watching the fights and Loki was watching Tony watching the fights. It seemed the prince was trying to figure out how he’d known what McMurdo would do.

“You know,” Tony said after the end of the second fight. “You could simply ask.”   
Loki at least had the good grace to look a bit sheepish.

“I suppose,” the prince said, his cheeks tinged pink. “But then, where’s the fun in that?” Tony chuckled at the answer, and nudged Loki’s shoulder, turning his attention back to the fights.

“See him?” He asked, pointing to the shorter man, who he’d briefly heard was named Stanley. “Stanley is his name.” He narrowed his eyes just a tad, calculating. He closed his eyes then, viewing the mental picture, before speaking. “Head cocked to the left, partial deafness in ear: first point of attack. Two: throat; paralyze vocal chords, stop scream. Three: got to be a heavy drinker, floating rib to the liver. Four: finally, drag in left leg, fist to patella. Summary prognosis: unconscious in ninety seconds, martial efficiency quarter of an hour at best. Full faculty recovery: unlikely.” He opened his eyes again, looking over at Loki, who seemed absolutely intrigued, one hand hovering over Tony’s shoulder, the other resting on the rail of the wooden gate.

“How did you…?” Loki was unable to finish his sentence, his head tilted to the side as if he were trying to figure out what, exactly, had just happened.  

“I look at what I know and put it together to come to an obvious conclusion. Or, in some cases, not so obvious.”

“You can’t possibly predict what they will _both_ do though, yes?”

“Oh no, I can predict. I just cannot say. That was simply my plan of attack, see? The other man, Rowder, he seems to wish to take a much more difficult approach. Ah, see? He’s leaning too far in; he’s about to have his jaw fractured.”   
And indeed a crack pierced the air not long after, a cry quickly following. Stanley let out a bellow of triumph as Rowder fell to the ground in a dazed heap, not even making an attempt at standing. Tony turned his attention to Loki, who was watching the two men rather closely now, his brow furrowed just a tad.   
“Oh, do tell me you haven’t bet on the wrong man again?” Tony asked; one brow rose in question.

“Of course I did. In my experience, bigger is typically better. I bet on the smaller man last fight, and he lost. I was hoping if I bet for the bigger man enough, he’d eventually win.”

Tony threw his head back and laughed, a genuine laugh, at Loki’s grumbling response. This, in turn, caused Loki to laugh, his head back, exposing his slender, ivory neck. It was a wonderful sight to behold.

“Oh, Anthony,” Loki said, wiping a tear from his eye. “I suppose I had better ask you who to bet for next time, yes?”

“I think that would be the safest way to keep your money where it belongs,” Tony replied, bobbing his head in agreement, the warmth of laughter still rolling in his belly. The new opponents came in as the old left, Rowder clutching his jaw.

“Tell me, who will win?” Loki asked, looking between the nameless men. Tony looked between the two, lips pursed in concentration. If he could only figure out their names…names with faces always made for the best candidates in his mind. His eyes sought out the announcer, impatiently waiting for the names to be read….and his breath caught.   
In the far corner sat an all too familiar foe, his eyes dark and his hat low. A slow, wicked smile spread across the others lips maliciously. Tony could easily see the words his lips formed; it was as if he could hear them.   
_I’ll be watching, Anthony…._  
Tony’s chest seized in a painful spasm, forcefully reminding him he hadn’t taken a breath. He sucked one in, but his eyes never left the others. A name popped into his mind, painfully demanding his attention.   
And then he was back to himself, and the man was gone.

“Anthony?” The voice was soft and concerned; a burst of warm breath brushing across his cheek. Tony snapped himself from whatever daze he’d been in, turning haunted eyes to Loki.

“My apologies, sire. I just found a….old friend.” He didn’t offer any other explanation and Loki didn’t ask, though his eyes were still worried.   
“What are their names?” Tony gestured to the two men in the rink.

“I believe they are ‘Marrow’ and ‘Davis’,” Loki supplied, his eyes moving to the men. Tony examined them for a minute; their stances, Marrow’s jutted jaw and Davis’ scarred knuckles.

“Davis,” Tony replied.

“And how do you know?” Loki asked, but it wasn’t a confrontation, it was simple curiosity.

“Well, look at his hands- rough on the palms and scarred on the knuckles. He’s got the stance of an experienced street fighter; arms raised to protect both his torso and his head, feet shoulder width apart to brace his weight. Scars along his jaw suggest previous injury- not enough to keep him out permanently. The narrow of his eyes show’s concentration; he’s mentally preparing for whatever Marrow will throw at him.”

Loki looked at him for a long moment before nodding, accepting the answer and saying,

“I noticed the scars, but I couldn’t figure out if that meant he was good or he couldn’t hold his own.”   
Tony smiled; more forced, not as easy as before, but there all the same.

*

Davis won. Both Loki and Tony got their bet wagers.   
And then they went to Tony’s for a drink. It was quiet evening, and Tony’s fingers ached for the feel of his violin beneath his rough fingertips.

“Do you mind?” Tony asked as he picked up his violin, setting down the glass of amber liquid he’d been drinking.

“Not at all,” Loki replied, watching him with a smile on his face. Tony nodded his thanks, brought the violin to the crook of his neck, and slid the bow smoothly across the strings, fingers dancing across the strings, playing a low, haunted melody.   
Loki watched him with wide eyes, leaning back into the plush arm chair he had settled into, his drink coming to rest on the table.   
Tony closed his eyes, immersing himself in the music, but his mind couldn’t stray from whom he’d seen. Loki’s breathing began to even out and deepen. Tony pulled his eyes open, still playing, and saw the prince had fallen asleep, slumped low in his chair. Tony took up a blanket from the back of the chair, spreading it over the slumbering prince.

“You haven’t a clue what you’ve gotten yourself into,” Tony murmured, brushing a stray lock of hair from Loki’s eyes, before standing straighter, playing his haunting tune once more.   
The name flashed in his mind over and over, nearly blinding him with its force, demanding his attention.

 _Moriarty…_  
Moriarty...  
Moriarty…


	3. Wine?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry about the chapter, guys. It's longer than most but I don't know if I really like it. Regardless, i needed to get something up. Please review and i hope you enjoy!

Tony hadn’t realized how long he’d been playing, or how much pressure he’d been exerting on the bow. Until, that is, the first three strings that made up the bow bent and snapped.   
He startled out of his daze, bringing his eyes down to the bow.   
“That’s rather unfortunate,” a voice said from in front of him. He brought his gaze up to Loki, who was watching him with curious eyes.   
“Indeed it is,” Tony murmured, trailing his fingers along the bow. “Pray tell, how long have you been watching me?”   
A smile graced Loki’s features.   
“Oh, no more than ten minutes. I will admit; I am surprised, Anthony. You haven’t a clue as to what’s transpiring around you when you play. You seem so free.”   
“Ah, but I am when I play. This is one aspect of my life I won’t allow anyone to control.” But that wasn’t entirely true. It was Moriarty pulling the strings now. If Tony’s thoughts hadn’t been on the foe, perhaps he would’ve been playing a happier tune.   
A knock on the door downstairs pulled him from his mind. He tilted his head in surprise.   
Tony pulled a golden watch from his pocket, gazing at the time. It wasn’t even past nine yet.  
Who on earth would stop by this early in the morn?   
He understood who when he heard the tell-tale sound of light yet solid footsteps.   
The door to his flat open, and in strolled Rodgers, in all his glory. He wore a simple silk button up, black slacks and boots.   
“Good morning, Stark,” Rodgers said, a smile lighting his features.   
“What in god’s name are you doing here at this hour, Rodgers?” Tony asked. He felt Loki’s eyes on him, but was content enough to figure he would speak up if he needed something.   
“You must get out. How long have you been locked in here?” Rodgers ignored the question.   
“Actually, I went out last night-”  
“The fighting club does not count, Stark,” he cut Tony off sharply, a brow raising. Tony sighed.   
“There is absolutely nothing of interest to me, out there, on Earth, at all,” Tony replied, settling himself down at Loki’s side. Loki glanced at him, eyes questioning, but remained silent. Rodgers didn’t say anything about the handsome stranger sitting in Tony’s home, and Tony was happy to continue acting as though he didn’t exist. It wouldn’t be easy explaining the prince had showed up of his own accord.   
“So you’re free this evening?”  
“Absolutely.”   
“Dinner?”  
“Wonderful.”   
“The Royale?”  
“My favorite.”   
“Mary’s coming.”   
“Not available.” Dread welled in Tony’s gut. He wasn’t prepared to meet his best friend’s to-be wife. Perhaps he never would be.   
“You’re meeting her, Stark!”   
“Have you proposed yet?”   
“No, I haven’t found the right ring.”   
“Then it’s not official.” He was being petulant and he knew it to be true. But that specific piece of knowledge didn’t stop him from continuing.   
“It’s happening, whether you like it or not. 8:30, the Royale. Wear a jacket.”   
“You wear a jacket.” He huffed and settled lower against the arm of the chair. Rodgers rolled his eyes, but that didn’t stop a small smile from curving his lips.   
“You’re suspicious of her. Why are you always suspicious?”   
“Should I answer chronologically or alphabetically?”   
Rodgers narrowed his eyes and sighed, his eyes finally finding the prince seated a bit uncomfortably next to Tony.   
“Please tell me you didn’t kidnap the prince.” Rodgers sounded worried, as if he actually believed Tony would kidnap the prince.   
“You think me stupid enough to kidnap the prince? Oh no,” a slow smile spread across his face. “I’d go for the King.”   
Beside him, Loki snorted a laugh, before standing.   
“I can assure you, he has not kidnapped me. I came willingly.” The prince smiled brilliantly, and it seemed enough to win Rodgers over.   
“Alright. Would you like to come to dinner with us?”   
“That would be lovely.” Loki said it at the same time Tony said, “Well, I won’t be coming alone.”   
Rodgers looked between them and chuckled, shaking his head.   
“8:30. Clean yourself up, Stark. It was a pleasure to meet you, your majesty.” Rodgers bowed deeply, though his fingers twitched as if he meant to salute. Old military tics, Tony figured.   
“Of course, my dear Rodgers. 8:30 sharp.”   
Rodgers straightened, nodded and whisked away through the door. Loki gazed between Tony and the closing door, a faint smile turning up the corners of his lips.   
“He seems like a good man. Perhaps someday he’ll be asked to join the royal guards,” Loki said offhandedly.   
“Best I know. He was a military doctor. No more, as you can see.” Tony straightened his jacket, standing. “Well, I guess we do have some time to spare. Whatever do you wish to do?” Loki was quiet for a moment, fingers tapping the chair in thought before a light bulb seemed to appear in his mind.   
“You seem like a man who’s had many adventures,” Loki started. “I would love to hear some of your tales.”   
Tony smiled widely.   
“Indeed I have.” He poured himself and Loki a drink, sitting on the couch and patting the spot next to him. Loki smirked and sat down, his long legs crossing and uncrossing. Tony would never admit to watching, not even to himself.   
“Where would you like me to begin?” he asked, sipping his drink. Loki swirled his own around for a moment, regarding him with poison green eyes.   
“I suppose you should start with the best.”   
*  
They talked throughout the day, occasionally stopping to pour themselves another drink.   
Tony noticed that they had progressively moved closer, until Loki and Tony’s thighs were touching. They’d angled themselves towards each other; Tony with one leg pulled up to his chest, Loki with his own folded beneath him in a very un-prince like way that he would never admit to thinking was very attractive.   
Tony eventually dragged himself away so he could shower and dress, finding his nicest suit. Afterwards, he tugged on a long, black trench coat. The time was 8:00. When he emerged from his room, Loki was standing.   
“Are you ready?” the prince asked. Tony nodded.  
“As I’ll ever be.” And with that, they were out the door, walking down to the Royale. Tony found them the seats Rodgers had reserved, and settled down in one, declining the offer of wine. He sat back; already the crowds were getting to him. He ignored the prince- even though he could feel his eyes on him- and closed his eyes, his golden pocket watch out. He focused on the familiar tick of the watch, blocking out all other noise, until he heard the scrape of a chair. His eyes flew open and found Rodgers and a lovely brunette.   
“I wasn’t aware we’d be dining with a prince and Mr. Stark,” the brunette, who Tony assumed to be Peggy, said with a warm smile.   
“You must be Peggy,” Tony said, standing. He took her hand, bending down to press his lips to her knuckles.   
“Indeed I am,” Peggy said, curtsying to the prince once Tony had released her hand. Loki took it next, bowing low, and brushing his lips across the back of her hand.   
“You look lovely,” Loki said, smiling his most handsome smile. Tony cast his eyes to Loki’s lips; the softness he knew would be there. Tony’s tongue darted out to wet his own suddenly dry lips. Rodgers pulled out Peggy’s chair before sitting down himself. Peggy was seated between Tony and Rodgers.   
“Now, you must tell me; I’ve heard quite a bit of you.” She glanced to Rodgers and back to Tony. “He never shuts up.”   
That earned a half hearted protest from Tony’s friend, and a laugh from the prince.   
“I have piles of detective novels at home. I must say, it seems a bit farfetched at times, making these grand assumptions based on such tiny details…”   
“Mm, that’s not quite right, is it? In fact, the little details are by far the most important.” He turned his gaze from Loki to Peggy. She tilted her head to the side.  
“Oh? Then I must ask; what little details do you see in me?”  
“Oh, I don’t think now is the best time….” Tony began.   
“Really, it doesn’t seem to be the best…not at dinner.”  
“Perhaps some other time.”   
“Home would be a more appropriate setting.”   
“Yes, it would.”  
Loki looked between the two with a raised brow but didn’t comment.   
“Oh, I insist,” Peggy said with a smile.   
“I don’t think-” Rodgers began, but Tony cut him off.  
“The lady insists.” He let his gaze wonder over her form, taking in every detail. He saw Loki shift from the corner of his eye in, what….jealousy, perhaps? He turned his focus back on Peggy. “You’re a governess.” He was quiet for a moment. “Your student…boy of eight-”  
“Charlie. Seven, actually,” Peggy corrected.   
“He’s tall for his age; he flicked you with ink today.”   
Peggy sucked in a breath.   
“Very good. Steve, is there ink on my face?” she turned to face Rodgers.   
“There’s nothing wrong with your face, dear.”   
“Actually, there’s two drops on your ear. And blue is damn near impossible to wash off. Anyway, very impetuous act by the boy; you’re too experience to react rashly, which is why the lady form who you were lent you that necklace. The jewels, the pearls the ruby, hardly the gems of a governess. However the jewels can tell us more-”  
“Stark!”   
“-You were engaged. The ring is gone, but the lighter skin where it once sat says that you spent some time abroad, wearing it proudly. That was until you were informed of its true and rather modest worth, at which point you broke off the engagement and returned to England for a better prospect.” He broke out of his daze, turning to look at Rodgers. “A doctor, perhaps.” And it wasn’t until he felt the cool dampness of wine on his face that he realized just how far he’d gone.   
“Right on all counts, Mr. Stark, apart from one,” Peggy said in a careful, quiet voice. “I didn’t leave him. He died.”  
And with that, Peggy stood, giving Rodgers a polite nod and curtsying to Loki, who’d been oddly quiet throughout his tirade. Rodgers let out a deep sigh.   
“Well done, old boy,” his friend said, standing and walking away without a word. Tony didn’t say anything, instead sipping his own wine- when the waiter had brought the bottle or filled any of their glasses, he was unsure. He got far too lost within his own deductions for that.   
“Bravo, Anthony,” Loki said quietly, watching him closely. “Though I do believe Doctor Rodgers and I both noticed you were too lost within your own mind to censor you words.”   
“That is your theory?” He sighed. “Never theorize before you have data. Invariably, you end up twisting facts to suit theories, instead of theories to suit facts.”   
“But I’m correct.” Loki pointed out.   
“Are you?” Tony challenged, finally turning to look at the other.   
“I am.”   
“And how, pray tell, do you know?”   
“I spent an entire day, how do you put it, figuring out your mannerisms. Isn’t that how you know everything, Stark?” Loki smirked.   
“Mannerisms, observations….” Tony trailed off and allowed the smallest of smiles to play across his lips.   
“So I was correct?”   
“Quite.”   
“Well, Mr. Stark, I will say I am impressed. We may just have to spend more time together.”   
“Yes, m’lord, we might.” He smiled lightly at Loki, and saw the prince smile brilliantly back. Tony couldn’t help it then, seeing the dimpled cheeks, the brown curls, the gorgeously green eyes.   
He tentatively leaned forward, resting a hand over Loki’s. Loki’s eyes widened but he didn’t pull away nor lean in.   
With one final mental encouragement, Tony brushed his lips across Loki’s.


	4. Proposition

When Loki didn’t pull back, Tony was all the more encouraged. He deepened the kiss, if only a bit, letting his tongue gently push at the prince’s lips, seeking entrance. Loki’s mouth fell open, and their tongues twined together, each fighting for dominance.   
Tony pulled away, suddenly aware that not only was he kissing the prince, but they had a rather awed audience. He glanced around, biting his lip, before looking back to Loki; Tony’s eyes trailed from his kiss-swollen lips, to his darkened eyes.

“I have a proposition for you,” he murmured softly. Loki, despite his lust-filled eyes, raised a brow.

“Oh?”

“My bedroom.” Those were the only words either of them needed. Loki smiled; a wild, mischievous thing, and stood.

“I think I shall have to say yes.” And with that, they were off, meal having been paid for. It took all Tony’s self control not to run home with the prince in tow. And when they finally did get there? Well, Tony did have time for some teasing.  
He pushed the prince into his room, not bothering to close the open window; if Loki were to scream his name, then he wanted everyone to hear. Tony moved slowly forward, his hands trailing over the prince’s silk covered torso, throwing a leg over his waist and straddling his hips. He bent down, pressing a kiss to the side of Loki’s neck, his deft fingers moving to undo the buttons of the prince’s shirt. Tony pulled the shirt free, biting down at Loki’s pulse point, just enough to leave a mark. Loki groaned and writhed with need beneath him. Tony just smiled and kissed a path down the prince’s torso, his fingers moving to trace every curve of the beautiful body beneath his. He lavished his tongue over the V of Loki’s hips, gently biting at it. The prince’s hips bucked ever so slightly and Tony’s grin widened. He slowly unbuckled Loki’s belt, and soon the prince was laid out, naked and exposed, beneath Tony’s body.  
Ivory skin was as soft and flawless as the emerald green silk Loki had been wearing earlier. Beautifully long limbs wrapped themselves around Tony like they’d never let him go. Dark, poison green eyes moved up to meet his from beneath long lashes. And Tony can’t help but think how absolutely beautiful Loki is; how beautiful he’s always been.   
Tony made quick work of shedding his own clothing, before coming down on the prince again, their kisses rougher with passion, their breath hot against each other’s tingling lips.   
They made love that night in a rush of fiery passion and the desperate touch of skin on skin.   
And when Loki screamed his name, the window was open for everyone to hear it.

*

Loki wasn’t beside him when Tony awoke in the morning. That was fine. Okay, perhaps it wasn’t fine. He liked the prince a bit more than he let on. But he could pretend it was fine because this was most definitely not the first time he’d woken alone after a lovely night, and with the way things were going, it most certainly wouldn’t be the last.   
As it turned out, Loki hadn’t actually left. He was out in the living room, closely examining Tony’s wide variety of books; things that ranged from Vonnegut to Stowe.

“This is quite the collection you own, Anthony,” Loki said, letting his long, deft fingers run along the spines of books he walked past.

“Indeed,” Tony replied. “I do enjoy a good novel.”

“Mm.” Loki hummed in agreement.

Tony found himself pleasantly surprised Loki hadn’t left, as he’d first suspected. He didn’t mean to voice his thoughts.

“I thought you’d left.” He mentally cursed his inability to keep his mouth shut, but he didn’t try to take his words back. It would have been pointless, for Loki had already heard and was looking at him with a raised brow.

“Oh? And why, pray tell, would I do that?”

“Is it not simply the natural reaction? To leave before one can regret their actions?”

“You think I regret last night?”

Tony frowned in confusion.

“Of course. I am the town drunk. You are the prince. It would only make sense….”

“Ah, but sense is not something either of us seems to have, is it now?” The corners of Loki’s lips tilted up into a smirk. Tony felt a smile find home across his own features.

“I suppose so,” he said, nodding to himself. Loki smiled, leaning forward and brushing his lips across Tony’s.

“How about a shower and breakfast?” the prince asked once he’d pulled away.

“Only if you join me,” Tony countered, smiling softly.

“Of course.” Loki’s smile only widened as he took Tony’s hand, leading him to the cluttered bathroom.

*

That was the most wonderful shower Tony had had in years, even if they’d gotten cold water towards the end.   
Breakfast turned out to be a home cooked meal- by Loki of course, for the only thing Tony could make was something that came in a box- that consisted of sausage, eggs, and sourdough toast. It was, if possible, almost better than the shower.   
This was coupled with coffee, of course.   
As they were eating, Loki turned to him.

“How about we go for a walk after we eat? I’d like to see the town.”

“There’s not much to see,” Tony replied. “It’s rags and dirt and starving people.” Perhaps the last part was said with more…bitterness than he’d first intended it to be. Tony would, as often as he could spare, go around and offer food to the homeless and starving men, women and children. Of course, this was done under the cover of night. Many would have just as easily stolen from the helpless, and Tony wouldn’t be around to help.

“Oh?” There was a frown on Loki’s face; it did not do to see something so beautiful with a look so fowl, so Tony silently vowed he’d never see that look again.

“But of course, there are some quite nice parts of town. My personal favorite being the ball house. It had quite a lovely view of the waterfall.” Tony took a sip of his coffee, holding the mug in both hands to warm them. It wasn’t often warm in his flat, but it was never cold either; simply leaning towards being chilly. Loki didn’t seem to mind, in his leather pants and boots and thick emerald tunic.

“That sounds lovely,” Loki replied, though he did eat a bit faster, as if he were already tired of being cooped up. This was something Tony could not understand; he often wouldn’t leave his home for days at a time, only to be forced out by Rodgers.   
Though, there was another reason he did not quite want to leave now. Moriarty was out there somewhere, and if Tony were to be seen with the prince, Moriarty would be sure to find some way to take Loki right out of Tony’s grasp.   
Not that he would ever admit that his foe wasn’t as dead as everyone had been led to believe. That Tony had been led to believe. He’d rather cut out his own tongue. Though he did silently vow that if the man laid a hand on Loki, Tony would rip Moriarty’s arms off and beat him to death with them.

“Shall we go?” Loki asked, breaking Tony from his thoughts. Tony startled, looking up at him. He was standing, his jacket over one arm, a hand extended to Tony.

“Yes, of course.” Tony finished his last dregs of coffee and took Loki’s hand, briefly releasing it so as to pull on his jacket, heaving a sigh of relief at the familiar feeling of fabric brushing against his calves and his hat on his head.   
“Let us go.”

And so, they went. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ah! sorry this took so long to update! Don't shoot and let me know what you think!


	5. Proposition II

Three and a half months they’d been together. This was not something they’d let the public know, however. No romantic affection in public; they’d agreed upon this together. It would be bad for the prince’s image if he was seen lip locked with the town drunk.   
They were currently making their way back to Tony’s flat, when Loki steered him in the opposite direction, a hand resting on Tony’s lower back.

“Where are we going?” Tony asked, his voice almost a whine.

“Hush, dear,” Loki replied, a wicked glint in his eye. Tony did not like that one bit. He had noticed Loki had been acting strange as of late, staying out later than usual, nervous and jumpy. And for the life of him, Tony could not figure out why. And if there was one thing he did not like more than horses- they were crafty at both ends- it was not knowing. Still, he followed silently along, gathering that they were indeed going to the ball house. He didn’t mention this, however; if Loki wasn’t telling him, it had to be a surprise, and the prince had taught Tony well enough to know when to hold his tongue.   
Once inside, the prince led him up and to the balcony, where they could watch the waterfall.   
“Would you mind pouring us a glass of wine, darling?” Loki asked as he looked out over the water. Tony was preparing to ask were, exactly, he could magically produce a bottle of wine, but it seemed Loki had taken care of that; a bottle of red wine sat on the table, along with two crystal glasses.

“Of course,” Tony replied, turning his back to Loki and pouring one of the glasses.

“I have a proposition for you,” Loki said softly. Tony raised a brow, glancing over his shoulder from where he was pouring the second glass.

“Oh?” Tony asked, turning back and then freezing, setting the glass and the bottle down, slowly turning to face the prince once more. He was down on one knee, a red velvet box held in one hand.   
“Oh, I could get used to seeing you kneel like this,” Tony said; his tongue felt too heavy, his throat too dry, his heart beating too fast.  

“Then say yes,” Loki replied on a breath, smiling that brilliant smile up at him. Tony stared down at him for a moment, unsure of just how he should respond. Lord, he should’ve seen this coming.   
This lovely, wonderful prince had managed to render the genius shocked.   
Loki appeared to be getting nervous, sweat beading at his brow, his hands trembling ever so slightly, eyelids blinking just a bit more than usual.

“Of course,” Tony finally choked out, dropping to his knees in front of the prince. “Of course I will marry you.” He pressed kiss after kiss against every inch of skin he could see. Loki laughed then; a warm sound that brought butterflies into Tony’s stomach.   
Before Loki could respond, however, a dozen uniformed men stormed onto the balcony, two yanking Tony two his feet, while a third cuffed his hands behind him, the steel cool against his heated skin.

“What-!” Loki cried, trying to pull away from the man who held his arm in a tight grip. Tony’s mind reeled, eyes catching onto even the littlest of details, trying in vain to tell him what was going on.   
The guards all wore black, seven with hats, five without. A little silver medallion was fastened onto the men who wore hats on their heads chests. The King’s men, no doubt. The others were simply officers.

“What does the King want?” Tony asked calmly. Loki’s eyes widened, latching onto Tony’s as understanding dawned on him.

“He demands your presence,” The guard to his right answered simply.

“Has he not heard of, perhaps, politely requesting?” Tony questioned. The guard narrowed his eyes and pulled him none too gently down the stairs and out the door, his shoes clicking sharply on the cobblestone path. Tony was roughly shoved into the carriage, Loki soon following- though his hands remained free; how interesting- and they were driven off to the castle.   
Tony was yanked rather roughly from the carriage, shoved towards the doors and led inside. He looked around, hiding his awe.   
To say the castle was huge would have been an understatement. Tony had never been in anything like it. The ceiling was graced with curved arches and intricate line work. Marble statues lined the walls. Paintings from grand artists, such as Van Gogh and Monet, were stacked on the walls.   
While he was ogling the lattice with his minds-eye, Loki was looking around rather disgusted, eyes narrowed and lips pulled into a thin line.   
Tony’s fingers ached to reach out and grasp the princes in his own, but, as his hands were chained, it was impossible. And he knew it wouldn’t have been one of his best ideas if he could.   
When they came upon the King, Tony narrowed his eyes. Just the looks of the man before him…  
Sitting in the throne, he looked as high and mighty as ever, even more so than when Tony had once caught a glimpse of him in his carriage. A golden patch covered his left eye, and he had a tangled white beard that almost disappeared into his hair- that looked exactly the same as his beard- which fell down to his shoulders. He was wearing a golden crown, of course, embellished with multiple gems.   
And that one eye without the patch? It did not look happy.   
Tony didn’t bother bowing- he’d learned long ago that the only people who demanded to be knelt in front of where psychopaths or power-hungry.

“Why have you done this, father?” Loki asked, dragging Tony out from his thoughts. The King stood, making his way down the steps that led to his throne.

“This,” the King began lowly. “Is who you fancy as a bed mate? This vile excuse of a man? The _town drunk?_ ” He shook his head in disgust and turned to look at the guards. “You may go.”   
Tony turned his head to face the man who still held his arm.

“It would appear you are no longer needed,” he stated dryly. The man smiled bitterly and rammed a fist into Tony’s stomach. Tony sucked in a breath and hunched over, waiting for air to reenter his lungs before straightening up, finding Loki’s worried eyes on him. He nodded a single time. The prince’s eyes moved back to his father.

“You will forget about this man and become king,” the King said quietly, so much more dangerous than his yelling.

“I will not forget.” It was a statement on Loki’s part, a challenge that it was clear he did not think the King would meet.

“You will. I will not allow this to continue!” The King’s voice was steadily getting louder.

“I care not what you think. I love him.”

Tony’s jaw would’ve dropped had he not been in the presence of the overbearing King. Odin’s jaw shifted, and he could practically hear the King’s teeth grinding.

“Let me rephrase,” King Odin growled. “If you do not, I will have him hanged.”

“On what charges?!” Loki roared.

“He has impersonated dozens of my force, killed multiple people, and has stolen many valuables! I do not need any more than that!”

Loki looked absolutely heartbroken, and Tony didn’t blame him. That was exactly what he felt.   
When the prince opened his mouth to argue again, Tony quietly cut in,

“Leave it be, Loki. Arguing will do nothing.”   
Loki frowned, and turned to his father.

“Please…give us the night to our goodbyes.” The prince had gone to begging now, and perhaps the King saw this as an all time low, seeing as how he seemed to take pity.

“You have tonight and no more. Tomorrow at first light, you will be gone, Mr. Stark, and you will not return. Am I understood?”

“You are,” Tony and Loki replied in unison. They were dismissed with a wave of the King’s hand. Loki silently led them to his chambers, asking one of the guards to remove Tony’s binds, which was done so without a single argument.   
Tony stood beside Loki’s bed, while Loki sat, head hanging, hands loose in his lap. The doors shut quietly behind him, and Tony turned just long enough to lock them before standing in front of the prince again.

“I want you to stay.” That was the only warning he got before Loki tugged, and Tony was falling next to the god. In fact, it wasn’t much of a warning at all. But that didn’t matter. All he could really think of was that he was leaving and he would never see the prince.   
Tony leaned down, gently tugging off Loki’s knee high boots, kicking off his own before pulling them under the blankets, wrapped in each other’s arms. He reached over, flicking off the bedside lamp.   
Candles were lit around the room, casting a soft glow across the two forms on the bed. The stars shone lightly through the window, mocking the lover’s with their freedom.    
He carded his fingers through those soft, dark locks as comfortingly as he could manage. The prince nuzzled his face into Tony’s neck, taking in a hitching breath.   
“I don’t want you to go.”   
Tony didn’t respond.  
Instead, he caught Loki’s fingers in his own, bringing the prince’s hand up to his own cheek. Loki’s fingers curled softly to cup his jaw and cheek, never moving from his spot at Tony’s side. Tony turned into the god’s hand, pressing a kiss to Loki’s palm.   
Loki pressed himself closer into Tony’s side, one arm coming to wrap around Tony’s waist, the other staying where it was against his lips.   
Tony settled a finger on the underside of Loki’s jaw, nudging his head up. The prince leaned up the rest of the way, pressing his lips to Tony’s.   
It wasn’t how he thought it would be. It wasn’t an explosion of heat. It wasn’t a crash of passion.   
It was molten lava, slow and warm, changing him to the very core.   
It was Loki.   
He tasted like leather.   
He tasted like snow.   
He tasted like a goodbye.  
Neither of them moved for the longest time after that. They simply lay together, wrapped in each other’s arms as if nothing could ever hurt them, as if nothing ever had.   
It was that night that he realized he’d completely, irrevocably, undeniably, fallen in love with the prince. There was no denying it, not now.

“What do we do now?” Tony asked, his quiet voice breaking the silence that had fallen between them. There was no answer from the prince, only a trembling of his shoulders. Tony ran his fingers along the dips in Loki’s spine comfortingly.   
“You know,” he continued. “I think I love you.” And there it was. The first time he’d ever said it. “I think I have for a while now. I just couldn’t bring myself to say it. I guess now mightn’t be the best time, but I suppose it’s the only time we’ve got.”   
He could feel tears burning in his eyes. _Why?_ That was what he wanted to know. Yet another thing he couldn’t figure out.   
The trembling in the prince’s shoulders grew more pronounced. He didn’t realize Loki was crying until he felt the tears wetting his shoulder.   
“Oh, Loki, don’t cry,” he whispered, kissing the top of Loki’s head. “Please don’t cry.”

“I love you too, Anthony,” Loki murmured, voice shaking. “I love you to the heavens and back. You can’t go, not now, not when I finally know.”   
Tony didn’t have to ask what he was talking about. He couldn’t find the words; his throat was too choked. Instead he tilted the prince’s head up, catching those soft lips with his own, before moving up to gently kiss Loki’s closed eyes, trying in vain to get rid of the tears.   
It didn’t work.   
Instead he felt them welling in his own eyes.   
“Don’t cry, I love you, don’t cry…” His plea was turning into an unsteady mantra.

“I need you,” Loki whispered. “One last time.”

That night, their love making was slow and passionate, the desperate touch of skin against skin, each of them trying to get as much of the other as they could. It was full of tears and promises that could never be kept.   
When morning came and the guards with it, they found Tony awake, staring down at his slumbering lover with what could only be described as true love.   
He didn’t wake Loki; instead, he pressed a kiss to the prince’s forehead.

“I love you, my prince,” he whispered in his ear.   
And then he was ushered away, out the doors, and away from what his life could have become.   
Away from Loki.   
If he would’ve known, he would’ve said those three words so, so much sooner.   
But he hadn’t known.   
How could he have known that the first time he’d tell Loki he loved him would also be the last?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, that was kind of...sad. Okay, it was sad, but I loved writing it. Let me know what you think! Reviews encourage faster writing!


	6. Falling

Tony squirmed, a hoarse cry being torn from his throat as he was dragged into the air yet again by the meat hook imbedded in the muscle of his shoulder. Blood dripped down his arm, soaked both the hands he had clinging to the chain. The pain was immense, soaking into every fiber of his being. When he hit the ground again, Moriarty bent over him, one cruel hand going round the hook, shifting it painfully, the other curling round his wrist and pinning it to the ground.

“I will ask you again; who did you send the telegram to?”

Tony’s voice was no more than a pitiful whisper when he spoke. “My friend, Captain Rodger’s.”   
Moriarty smiled a terrible smile and stood.

“Now, was that so hard?”  
 _Harder than you would think, bastard._

“I suppose….it could’ve gone easier,” he mustered, his voice just loud enough that Moriarty would hear. The man in question nodded in agreement and strolled towards the door.

“Have fun, Anthony.”   
The heavy metal door swung shut at the same time a pang of furious agony roiled through his chest, settling down in his heart. _Anthony_. Oh dear, he needed his King. God, he needed him. He had never wanted someone like he wanted Loki; never needed him as much as he did. Hell, he hadn’t wanted or needed _anyone_ before.

“Loki…” he whispered, sinking against the ground in exhaustion. He closed his eyes, barely able to gather the strength to pull the hook from his shoulder. It brings another stab of pain and the sharp intake of breath.   
When Rodger’s came rushing in, it took him by complete surprise. He was nearly unconscious, darkness creeping in at the edges of his vision, when he heard the sound of the door scraping across the floor, coupled with the all too familiar feeling of all-encompassing dread.

“Tony?” A soft hand on his face, nudging him awake.

“Rodger’s?” It was said on a breath, shock clear in his eyes.

“I’m here, Stark, I’m here,” the man said softly, putting an arm his shoulder and helping him into a sitting position.

“Mm,” he murmured. “Always good to see you.”

That was all he managed to get out before darkness consumed him and he sank into a blessedly pain free darkness.

*

When he next awoke, he was on his couch at home, and Rodger’s was nowhere in sight. That in itself made it a perfect time to slip away. He dressed in his nicest suit, gritting his teeth at the persistent ache in his bandaged shoulder, and dropped his pipe into his pocket before sliding out the door.   
Tony knew where Moriarty would go, knew where he’d be expected to go.   
It didn’t take much time at all to reach the Riechenbach ball house.  
He made his way through dancing couples, absently noting any missteps made or falters in balance. None of it mattered, not really.  He was, quite possibly, most likely, going to die tonight.   
It started with a chess game. Moriarty started it. Both of them had a counter for every move and every counter move there was. And then came the story changer. Moriarty stole his queen and caught his king. That was when Tony knew for certain he was not going to win this fight.   
He stood instead, putting is pipe between his lips.

“Would you mind?” he asked around it, quietly. “I seem to have injured my shoulder.”

“Of course,” Moriarty drawled, smiling a crooked smile, bringing up his lighter.   
They fought, mind taking place of body.   
And when Tony figured that the only possible outcome of their wretched dance would end in his death, he took a breath, and blew.   
Hot ashes splashed into Moriarty’s face, momentarily blinding him. The man let out a yell of protest. Before Moriarty could recover, Tony spun him around, locking his arms round Moriarty’s chest, a foot against the table, his back pressed to the stone railing.   
Memories flashed before his eyes, rapid fire, stealing his fear and replacing it with a dull ache in his chest.

_\- and that was when he saw him. Standing towards the back, smiling as he no doubt thought he would win. From his clean, silken tunic to his locks of chocolate curls and the sword at his hip; he screamed royalty-_

Tony took a long, fortifying breath.

_-Tony threw his head back and laughed, a genuine laugh, at Loki’s grumbling response. This, in turn, caused Loki to laugh, his head back, exposing his slender, ivory neck-_

He saw the door open.

 _\- He smiled lightly at Loki, and saw the prince smile brilliantly back. Tony couldn’t help it then, seeing the dimpled cheeks, the brown curls, the gorgeously green eyes._  
He tentatively leaned forward, resting a hand over Loki’s. Loki’s eyes widened but he didn’t pull away nor lean in.   
With one final mental encouragement, Tony brushed his lips across Loki’s-

He saw Rodger’s face.

 _\- Tony made quick work of shedding his own clothing, before coming down on the prince again, their kisses rougher with passion, their breath hot against each other’s tingling lips._  
They made love that night in a rush of fiery passion and the desperate touch of skin on skin.   
And when Loki screamed his name, the window was open for everyone to hear it-

He closed his eyes.

 _-“Then say yes,” Loki replied on a breath, smiling that brilliant smile up at him. Tony stared down at him for a moment, unsure of just how he should respond. Lord, he should’ve seen this coming._  
This lovely, wonderful prince had managed to render the genius shocked.   
Loki appeared to be getting nervous, sweat beading at his brow, his hands trembling ever so slightly, eyelids blinking just a bit more than usual. 

_“Of course,” Tony finally choked out, dropping to his knees in front of the prince.  
“Of course I will marry you.”-_

He pushed.

Moriarty screamed.

They fell.

The fall was long.   
It wasn’t like falling off of his shed roof or falling out of his open bedroom window.   
It was like falling into the sky itself; never ending, vast….beautiful.   
Peaceful.   
He could hear the water washing towards him, the wind in his hair, impending death looming just over his shoulders.

Seconds before he hit, his mind turned back to Loki. To those blessed words spoken from his lips. They sounded so beautiful, even in his sad, chaotic mind.

_“You know, I think I love you. I think I have for a while now. I just couldn’t bring myself to say it. I guess now mightn’t be the best time, but I suppose it’s the only time we’ve got.”_

_“I love you too, Anthony. I love you to the Heavens and back….”_

And then there was darkness. 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow, this took a while. I'm sorry for the wait, guys! Reviews help me write faster! Love y'all, and thanks for reading!


	7. Broken Heart

When Captain Rodger’s returned, Loki gazed at him with eyes full of hope.

“Did you find him?” he asked. But he already knew; from the wring of the captain’s hands to the sadness in his eyes, he knew.

“I did, my lord. But I’m afraid I was too late.”

He would be lying if he said it didn’t sting. He would be lying if he said he didn’t feel the exact moment his heart shattered; the agony that one would feel with the loss of someone who meant no less than the world.

“I am sorry, my lord.” Captain Rodger’s was quiet for a moment. “I believe,” he said after a beat of silence. “He sacrificed himself for you.”   
As if that wasn’t another pang to his chest.   
The captain bowed and straightened, leaving without another word.   
Loki sat there for a long moment, staring out at nothing, tears threatening to spill. He stood, slowly pulling his crown from his head, twisting it in his fingers as if he could go back to the moment his father decided he couldn’t love who he did.   
He took a step, and tried to take another, but his legs would not hold him. He sank to the ground, desperate sobs pulling from his chest, shaking his shoulders, forcing tears nothing short of pure agony to pour down his cheeks. He hugged the crown to his chest, the solidness helping ground him when he felt as if he would float away.   
He hit the ground, curling into a ball, praying that all this was no more than a dream, a nightmare borne from his worst fears.   
He had no such luck.

*

Three and a half months later, he was preparing to ride into battle. He sat atop his horse, a white beauty, with his eyes closed. All he could see was Anthony.   
That didn’t matter now. At least, that was what he told himself. Anthony _couldn’t_ matter now. Loki needed to focus on the battle that was just about to rage on…..  
With a yell, he propelled himself forward, his men following close behind.  
The sound of clashing metal and battle cries filled the air, the metallic tang of blood wafting soon after.   
He brought his blade down across a man’s chest, stabbing him through the heart. He pretended not to hear the cry of agony that followed.

Three long days this went on- no sleep, no food, no water. Needless to say, he was not at his best. And perhaps this was why he did not see the blade until it was buried in his stomach. With a cry, he was torn from his over-exhausted horse. He stabbed the man, ripping the blade free of his own stomach. Blood poured from the wound, no matter how well he tried to cover it.   
He sank to his knees, the tip of his sword sinking into blood soaked mud.   
He let his eyes fall closed, but forced them open soon enough, closing both hands over the hilt of his sword, his forehead coming to rest on them. Each breath was painful.   
Yet still, all he could see was Anthony.

_\- and that was when he saw him. Pulling himself up from a no doubt painful blow. Loki smiled, knowing he would win. The man before him was handsome, that was not a lie. Dark locks of hair falling over his forehead, chocolate brown eyes peering into his own-_

Loki took in a long, fortifying breath.

_-Anthony threw his head back and laughed, a genuine laugh, at Loki’s grumbling response. This, in turn, caused Loki to laugh, his own head tilted back; Anthony had such a wonderful laugh-_

He saw his men fall.

 _\- Anthony smiled lightly at him, and Loki smiled brilliantly back. He remembered thinking there was nothing more he wanted to do than kiss those soft looking lips._  
Anthony tentatively leaned forward, resting a hand over Loki’s. Loki’s eyes widened but he didn’t pull away nor lean in.   
 Anthony brushed his lips across Loki’s-

He saw his crown fall.

 _\- Anthony made quick work of shedding his own clothing, before coming down on Loki again, their kisses rougher with passion, their breath hot against each other’s tingling lips._  
They made love that night in a rush of fiery passion and the desperate touch of skin on skin.   
And when Loki screamed Anthony’s name, the window was open for everyone to hear it-

He closed his eyes.

 _-“Then say yes,” Loki replied on a breath, smiling widely up at him. Anthony stared down at him for a moment, seeming unsure of just how he should respond. Loki bit his lip worriedly._  
Perhaps he’d simply managed to shock the genius. Wouldn’t that be something to boast about?    
Loki was getting nervous, sweat beading at his brow, his hands trembling ever so slightly, eyelids blinking just a bit more than usual. 

_“Of course,” Anthony finally choked out, dropping to his knees in front of him.  
“Of course I will marry you.”-_

He let himself go.

He felt like he were falling forever, though, in truth, he hit the ground in a matter of seconds.   
In a way, he still felt like he was falling, even after he had hit the ground.   
It wasn’t like falling off of his shed roof or falling out of his open bedroom window.   
It was like falling into the sky itself; never ending, vast….beautiful.   
Peaceful.   
He could hear footsteps rushing towards him, blood soaking his hair, impending death looming just over his shoulders.

Seconds before he was gone, his mind turned back to Anthony. To those blessed words spoken from his lips. They sounded so beautiful, even in his sad, chaotic mind.

_“You know, I think I love you. I think I have for a while now. I just couldn’t bring myself to say it. I guess now mightn’t be the best time, but I suppose it’s the only time we’ve got.”_

_“I love you too, Anthony. I love you to the Heavens and back….”_

And then there was darkness. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know- it's short. Sorry!


	8. Return of the Lost King

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This switches perspective a couple of times; fair warning

When he awoke, the first thing that registered was that he was in no way, shape or form dead.   
One might think that a good thing, but as he was rather _counting_ on dying, it most definitely was not.   
The second thing was _pain_.   
Oh, it was terrible, throbbing in time to his heartbeat. It seemed to radiate outwards from his stomach.

“Drink, my liege.” The voice was soft and unexpected, coming from somewhere to his right. A glass was nudged against his lips and he allowed himself a small sip. Cool water slid down his parched throat and he greedily took another drink. Whoever this person was, he would’ve sworn they were an angel from Heaven.   
He found he was too exhausted to open his eyes, let alone identify the quiet male voice, though he didn’t really care. He had water and that was that.   
He drank until his thirst was quenched, and sank back into the pillows.   
A blessedly cool hand passed over his brow, moving to run through his sweat soaked curls.   
“You’ve really done yourself good this time, haven’t you, m’lord?”   
And oh, the pain was back but that was so, so gentle and that hand was so wonderful.   
There was a soft rattling sound and then muffled yelling voices.   
“I must go, m’lord.” The voice was right next to his ear now, gentle breath puffing out across his ear. “But you will be alright.” Lips pressed to his temple, and then both the hand and the person it belonged to seemed to vanish, leaving only silence in its wake.   
Loki was asleep before the doors to his room even opened.

*

When he woke next, the pain had fallen to dull ache, and the haze that had been fogging his mind was there no longer. A young woman was kneeling at his bedside, dipping a cloth in a bucket of water.

“Miss?” he asked, voice a mere rasp from disuse.

“My liege!” she cried in surprise, dropping the cloth and folding her hands in a proper bow.

“You may rise. Water?”

“Of course, my lord.” She stood quickly and took a glass of water from the bedside table, moving a hand behind his back and helping him sit. Another dull pang through his abdomen.   
He looked down to find it swathed in bandages.   
A frown dipped his brow, but before he could really question it, the glass was pushed into his hands. He took slow sips, allowing the coolness of it to soothe his throat, before asking;

“Miss? Was there, perhaps, a man in here not too long ago?”   
It was her turn to from.

“My liege, that was three days ago.”   
_Three days?_

“But he was here, was he not?”

“Indeed he was, sire…” Her frown deepened. “I apologize. We were unable to identify him. He had on a long coat and a hat that shadowed his face.”   
He sighed and made to get out of bed.   
“No, sire, you must stay.” She gently pushed his shoulders back down. Sadly, it did not take much effort on her part to get him back down onto the bed. “You need rest. It is the only way you will heal.”

“I must figure out who this man was-”

“No,” she stated firmly, setting a look on him that told him he would not be going anywhere. “You will stay here until I permit you to leave. You are on indefinite bed rest. You did take a sword to the stomach, you know. You’re lucky to be alive. In fact, that same man here was the one who bound the wound when your men were attempting to reach you. It seems he likes you.” She smiled a warm smile then, and it made him feel more relaxed then he had been when he’d woken.   
He sighed but nodded, offering up a smile of his own, before exhaustion claimed him once more and he fell asleep to the soft sound of the nurse bustling around….

*

_-Three Days Ago-_

He knelt beside the King, gently nudging the glass to his lips.

“Drink, my liege,” he murmured softly. He watched green eyes slit open, attempt to focus, and then fall shut once more before the King sipped at the water. He smiled down at him, glad he was drinking much needed water. After all, he’d nearly died in battle and had lost so much blood….oh, it pained him to think he’d almost lost his King.   
When the King sank back against the hand he’d held beneath his head, he moved the water glass back to the bedside table and passed a hand over the King’s fever hot brow, a frown marring his features, before moving his fingers to card through the King’s hair.   
“You’ve really done yourself good this time, haven’t you, m’lord?” he asked on a breath, gazing down at the man before him. The King shifted a bit, as if in pain, a hand ghosting over his abdomen without him seeming to realize it.   
He heard the clatter of armor and the yelling voices of guards from outside the door as they tried to break it down. He sighed, bringing his face down to the King’s ear.   
“I must go, m’lord,” he said softly. “But you will be alright.” He pressed a gentle kiss to the King’s temple and moved back, looking down at him for a moment longer, taking in the contours of his body, the brow furrowed in pain, the curve of his lips, the pale elegance of his exposed throat.   
He tilted his hat low over his face just as the doors barged open and the guards came rushing in, swords drawn. When they spotted him, a shadow against the darkness of the room, they charged.   
But he was already climbing out the window.   
With one last glance back, Tony vanished into the night.

*

It was nearly a week and a half later before the nurse- Elizabeth, as he’d learned was her name- allowed him to leave his bed.   
As soon as he was able, he showered and dressed in simple leather leggings and a deep green tunic, his sword belted at his hip, a hat tilted over his eyes, and left home, off to the cemetery.   
He’d memorized the inscription on Anthony’s headstone from days of coming before the battle. It ran through his mind as he walked.

 _Anthony Edward Stark_  
1849-1891  
It was a good story,  
a game of shadows, but now I must say:   
The End

When he got there, he gently set the single red rose at the head of the stone, carefully in the snow. The contrast of red on white was terrifyingly beautiful.   
He stood, stepping back to read the inscription once more, as if it were possible he’d forgotten it.  
His breath caught, however, and he read it twice over just to make sure he’d gotten it right.   
And then he’d laughed.   
He’d laughed until the wound in his stomach ached and then he’d laughed some more.   
He threw his head back and exposed his neck to the wind, as no one else was there for him to. Well, he’d thought, anyways. After all, he hadn’t seen the figure in the long black coat and hat standing off in the shadow of the trees, but if he had, oh how he would’ve realized it truly was a game of shadows.

“Oh, you ingenious bastard,” Loki said after he’d caught his breath, eyes alight, joy he hadn’t felt in nearly four months coursing through his system, warming him from the inside out.   
He smiled as he turned his back and walked the way he’d came, following his lone set of footsteps.  
Of course, the inscription had been very much the same, aside from the last line, and it had changed everything. And the bastard knew it would.   
Loki had been played, but oh, the inscription had been correct. It had been such a good story. But it was the last line, the very last, that had really changed the story.   
He smiled again, gloved fingers fiddling with the single scarlet rose petal he’d taken. He let it fall slowly, dancing in the wind before it fell delicately into the snow, the words forever burned into his mind.

_The End?_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> That's all folks! Hope you enjoyed!


End file.
